


The Random Title

by Mello_McQueen



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: Brothers, Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-30
Updated: 2008-10-30
Packaged: 2017-11-11 07:06:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/475895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mello_McQueen/pseuds/Mello_McQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lying  on that bed with a sedative drip feeding into him he wait for the sound  of footsteps, and a moments comfort from his brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 359 Heroes

**Author's Note:**

> written at: Oct. 30th, 2008.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lying on that bed with a sedative drip feeding into him he wait for the sound of footsteps, and a moments comfort from his brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written at: October 30th, 2008.

**359 Heroes  
**  
Lying on that bed with a sedative drip feeding into him, he strains his ears, listening. Trying to hear the familiar sound of those footsteps. Steady, buoyant footsteps.

Calm, like any normal (sane) person. Which is one thing he most certainly isn't.

He's hungry, after all. So hungry, it's driving him insane. But it isn't food that he wants. Not food at all.

Of course, it doesn't matter anyway because he hasn't heard them. Those footsteps. Not for so long, by now, he wishes he could die.

That's just another thing that doesn't matter. He knows wishing for it won't make it any less unlikely. Wishing won't end his suffering. Make his pain go away.

It won't erase the memory of all the people he's killed. And it won't make the hunger stop. But then there are those footsteps. . .

Steady, buoyant footsteps that echo down the hall and make him want to cry as the door opens and those footsteps move inside the room. Walking to his side.

A moment later he can feel those fingers running through his hair, brushing it back in a soothing way. It's a touch he's almost used to. Like the question that always follows. "How are you feeling?"

He doesn't answer and the soothing feeling stops.

"Brother?" There are symphonies of trepidation in that word. Fake or real, he doesn't really know, but it doesn't matter. Still, part of him thinks he's being a little too cruel.

Even so, he hesitates. Finally: "I'm hungry." his voice is a whisper, cracked and weak. Not like the almost bitter chuckle of laughter that follows, the one he used to hate.

The one he still hates he affirms, as that voice says: "I know, brother." a pause “I’ll be back.” and the footsteps start away. It’s enough to make him want to cry.

This time though, they stop at the door and walk back to his side. After a pause, he feels the soft brush of lips upon his forehead and that voice says: "I love you."

They recede again and he waits, and waits, and waits. Those footsteps don’t come back.

Peter screams himself hoarse.

**End**


	2. 245 Heroes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sylar wants so many things, but he wants some things more than others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written at: February 2, 2009.

**245 Heroes**

Sylar wants so many things.

He wants for his mother to love him. And she does love him, his mother. He knows that. He also knows that she has ulterior motives for gaining his affections. Which, he thinks, is perfectly fine.

He has ulterior motives as well. Like wanting the hunger to stop and his mother, well, she is best equip to help him do that.

But sometimes, knowing this makes him sick. Mostly when she comes to visit him in his cell on level 5. When she speaks to him in that soft voice and smiles saying: “You’re my favorite son, Gabriel. “

It makes him sick because, of course, he knows she is lying. Playing him like she plays her other sons. His _brothers_. Nathan, who he thinks less of as “Nathan”, and more of as “the politician.”

And Peter. Peter, whom the very thought of seems to evoke in him conflicting emotions. At one end, feelings of jealousy and resentment, feelings he knows are returned by his brother. At the other end, a compassionate protective feeling, not unlike the one he feels for their mother.

A feeling, that in some ways makes him sicker than the lies she feeds him, if only because he can’t really understand it and the things he can’t understand only serve to feed the hunger inside of him.

They only make him want even more, which is why, despite his best efforts, what he really wants. . .

is Peter.

**End**  



	3. 410 Heroes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angela has some fun at her sons' expense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written at: February 3rd 2009

**410 Heroes**

“Well, I see you’ve mastered the concept of swift and silent.” Angela Petrelli says as her youngest son walks into the kitchen, toweling his hair and looking like he hasn’t gotten a decent night's sleep in days.

Nathan blinks, from his spot at the table, and looks up. “what?” He asks, not quite sure he’s heard her right.

“Gabriel stopped by.” Angela says. She smirks when Peter looks surprised and raises an eyebrow towards the jacket thrown haphazardly over the back of the sofa.

Inhaling a sharp breath, Peter groans, sliding into the seat across from Nathan, who frowns into his coffee as Peter says:

“Only for a few minutes, Mom.” His tone is defensive, and a bit uneasy.

Angela stirs creamer into her coffee and smiles softly. “Like I said, swift and silent. Emphasis on the swift.” She adds.

Nathan nearly chokes on his own saliva. “ _What_?” he rasps, looking between them, as Peter shakes his head and Angela takes a slow sip of her coffee.

“Oh, don't act so surprised Nathan.” She says as he takes a drink of his own in an effort to control his breathing. “Honestly, what did you think they do when they’re alone together?”

As Nathan’s face takes on a mortified look, she adds with a look at Peter, in a slightly bemused and yet conversational tone, “What I don’t get, is how you keep from screaming. . .”

Coffee spews across the surface of the table, and Peter jumps back to avoid getting hit, as Nathan slams his cup down.

“Jesus mom!” Nathan says with wide eyes, his face red as he rises to his feet, looking first at her, then at Peter. “Oh my God!” He says, and without another word storms from the room.

The front door opens and slams shut, half a minute later the door to the bathroom slides open and Gabriel steps out. He looks at Angela, and then Peter. “What’s going on?” He asks, reading the atmosphere in the air, and feeling as though he’s missed something.

Angela takes another careful sip of her coffee, and looks up at him. “Nathan and I were just discussing your. . . _bedroom habits_.” She says.

In response to this, Peter turns his head away, burying his rapidly reddening face into the palm of his hand; he mutters something into his hand that sounds suspiciously like: "I hate you both." as Gabriel looks down at the bloody towel in his hands, and Angela merely smiles.

**End**  



End file.
